


PTSD

by Emily_F6



Series: Irondad Bingo 2019 [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Irondad Bingo 2019, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23165779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: A gift for the lovely Areias!Something is wrong with Peter after the snap...after everything is put right.  He just doesn't know what it is.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Irondad Bingo 2019 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664827
Comments: 6
Kudos: 255





	PTSD

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Areias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areias/gifts).



It was the thunder that woke him. Peter jerked awake, eyes wide as he stared at the ceiling, his breaths coming in pants. Hands shaking, he balled them into fists around the blanket. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt, and he closed his eyes, taking deep, deliberate breaths. Nightmare, he told himself. Just a nightmare. Not a big deal. Just a nightmare.

If he kept saying it, Peter might actually start to believe it.

He could hear May's heartbeat in the other room, and he closed his eyes once more, trying to go back to sleep to the sound. Not that he particularly wanted to sleep, but he was going to Mr. Stark's cabin the next day for the weekend and the man would notice if he hadn't slept. Hell, he was probably going to notice anyway, Peter figured as he kicked the covers off. Peter had seen himself in a mirror. He knew that his eyes were sunken and his cheekbones stuck out. He knew that he'd lost weight...that the signs of sleep loss were all over his face. Mr. Stark was bound to notice.

Pulling the covers back over him and tucking them under his chin, Peter rolled over, curling up on his side and opening his eyes. He knew he might as well just give up on sleep since he wasn't going to get any. He'd barely gotten any all week.

Mr. Stark had been on strict bed rest for weeks, including the time that Peter had been on his field trip. That hadn't stopped him from sending Bucky, Sam, and Steve to help Peter out after finding out that he was up against Quinten Beck. And they'd showed up just in time to take out Beck, but only after Peter had already been fooled by his illusion tech and hit by a train. After he already had woken up in a jail cell that he'd escaped from only to have to call Happy, not wanting Mr. Stark to know how much danger he was in.

Happy had, of course, tattled on him, thus the Winter Soldier, Falcon, and Captain America coming to his aid.

Peter hadn't seen much of Mr. Stark since returning from Europe about a week ago. Frankly he hadn't seen much of anyone. May had called him out sick, mostly because he couldn't sleep and could barely eat. He knew she noticed and he hated himself for it. She'd been so worried about him when he'd been in Europe, even without knowing all of the details which he had refused to share. Not that she'd asked. Peter knew how worried she was. He knew that her worry was what had caused her to reach out to Pepper, which was why he was now spending his weekend at Mr. Stark's lake-house.

It wasn't that Peter didn't want to see Mr. Stark. He'd only seen him briefly on the day he'd gotten back from Europe. The man had hugged him and asked if he was okay, and Peter… he couldn't remember much of it actually. He'd known that Mr. Stark had looked worried and that he'd asked him questions and Peter thought he'd answered them. Surely he had. But then May had taken him back home and he'd gone to bed and the nightmares had begun.

It wasn't just the nightmares either. The jumping at every freaking loud noise, like the time May dropped a pot in the kitchen and he nearly jumped to the ceiling. The way his hands shook sometimes or how his spider senses seemed to be fried, and every noise and every touch and every word from another person made him want to scream. He had a feeling he knew what this was. He'd heard the term but he didn't want to use it. He didn't want to think about the fact that he was broken, about how he couldn't be a superhero because all it had taken was one crazy guy with some advanced tech to break him.

Peter gave up on sleep, climbing out of bed and walking to his window to stare out at the thunderstorm. A real storm, he reminded himself. Mysterio was gone. Mysterio wasn't a threat anymore. He'd been taken care of. It was something Peter had to remind himself of multiple times a day, ever since the battle with Mysterio. Ever since Fury had hijacked his field trip and Peter had come home feeling like he'd been shattered.

He was fine, Peter told himself as he stared out the window. Everything was fine. This was a real thunderstorm and the nightmares would go away. Nightmares of Mr. Stark dying on the battlefield. Nightmares of Thanos and fading away and walking up on Titan. Nightmares of Beck hitting him with a train and getting trapped underneath. Nightmares of where he couldn't get out, he couldn't grab the sides, he was going to be crushed.

The watch on his wrist gave a quiet little beep and he stared down at it, jumping in surprise at the noise. In the corner, it told him that his heart rate was too high, and he knew that if he didn't calm down, it would call for help, and he'd be getting a call from Mr. Stark.

Knowing that he was taking a gamble, he slipped it off and put it on his nightstand. The watch had been a present from Mr. Stark when he'd returned to life along with billions of other people. The man had thrown his arms around him on the battlefield, and then it was all a blur, but someone, Rhodey, he thought, had given him the watch before he'd left with May, leaving Mr. Stark recovering at the hospital.

And then he'd gone to Europe. And then he'd met Mysterio, and the Avengers had come to help. Mr. Stark had hugged him when he'd come back. Morgan, Mr. Stark's little girl who seemed to think he was her big brother, which was sweet but not something he could process yet, had hugged him almost as tight as her father. And then he'd been home. Not his home, a new apartment. One that Mr. Stark had probably found for them. And Happy had been coming around but Peter stayed in his new room most days, sometimes texting Ned and MJ, who he'd kissed in Europe but who he had barely spoken to since because he couldn't cope with any of this.

She'd promised him that she understood. That it was fine, that he should take a few days after everything. And that's what he was doing. He was taking a few days, a little vacation from Spider-Man and the real world and life in general and…and he still felt like this. Like he couldn't figure out where he belonged. Like he'd had a home and now he didn't and all he had was this strange new apartment and this strange new bedroom and he just wanted to go home!

May had been the one to tell him that he was going to be staying with Mr. Stark. School was canceled for two weeks after the incident in Europe and honestly, Peter was glad. He didn't think that he could handle school on top of everything else.

He was already packed, so when it was time to go, all he had to do was stand up and follow May out to the car. It wasn't that he didn't want to go. He loved spending time with Mr. Stark. Well, he had, before. Back when he'd spend the occasional day in the lab with him, and they'd gone on missions together. But they'd never been that close. Not that Peter didn't love Mr. Stark, he did! He loved Mr. Stark just like he'd loved his own father and Ben, but he'd never gotten the sense that Mr. Stark felt the same. Sure, Mr. Stark looked out for him and told him he was a good kid and ruffled his hair and they'd even hugged a few times.

But they'd still been _getting there_. Then he'd woken up on Titan and Mr. Stark had a real family, and Peter didn't want to be selfish. Didn't want to be the person that would begrudge the man his happy ending. He just didn't know if Mr. Stark wanted him to be part of it, or if he even could be. How could he be part of anyone's happy ending when he felt this way?

The plan, as May had told him, was that he would go to the lake-house Friday morning, and May would pick him up on Monday. Before he knew it, May was up and making breakfast and he was throwing his bag over his shoulder. After picking at his food, Peter followed May out to the car and they began the journey in near silence. He ran the plan through his mind over and over as he stared out the window, watching the buildings turn to trees. He knew this wasn't just for him. May wanted time alone with Happy. And…

Peter had no idea how he felt about that. At all. So he just didn't.

When the lake-house came into view, Morgan was the first one out the door, racing off the porch and opening his door before he could.

"Petey!" she cried. Morgan was the only one who ever called him that, and it was fine. It was nice. It was cute.

She crawled into his lap and threw his arms around his neck and a part of him wanted to throw her off and scream and claw his own skin off but he caught himself.

 _Morgan,_ he reminded himself. This was Morgan. He wrapped an arm around her, the best he could do, and was vaguely aware of Mr. Stark coming out the front door. He didn't use the cane anymore. He seemed mostly steady, and the prosthetic arm was a bright, Iron Man red. Peter didn't look right at him, just gave Morgan a quick squeeze.

"How you doing, Mo?"

"Good. You're staying all weekend!"

"I am," he agreed, unbuckling his seatbelt and swinging so that his feet were on the floor. He readjusted his arm around her and stood with her still on his hip. When he finally looked up at Mr. Stark, the man was smiling at them, a smile he'd never given Peter before.

Peter opened the back seat and tossed his backpack over his other shoulder. "So what are we going to do?" Peter asked Morgan.

"We're going to watch movies, and eat juice pops, and go canoeing! Daddy said I'm not allowed to go by myself, and he said that you would take me!"

"Actually, I said that if you asked nicely and the weather was nice, Peter might take you out on the lake," Mr. Stark corrected with a chuckle as Peter approached.

He'd already said goodbye to May, had already promised that he'd be fine and told her to have fun, not wanting to think about what exactly that meant. So he only turned with a quick wave as she drove away, heading back to the city to meet Happy. Mr. Stark stepped forward to meet him, wrapping his arms around Peter and Morgan both.

"Hey, Underoos."

"Hi." Peter smiled, hugging him back as best he could with the five-year-old in his arms.

"Come on in. Let me show you your room."

Peter followed him, feeling like he was in a haze, but he was holding Morgan so he kept a firm grip on him and did his best to keep a grip on reality while he followed Mr. Stark through the house he'd never been to and to a room. His room. Another strange room in another strange place that wasn't really his.

There were two bedrooms, side by side. One had a homemade sign, written in crayon, with the name "Morgan" scrawled in five-year-old handwriting. On the door in front of them was a matching sign, same crayon, same handwriting, but with the name "Peter."

"Do you like it?" Morgan cried. She was bouncing a little while sitting on his arm, feet kicking in excitement, and Peter forced himself back to reality once more, trying to leave thoughts of fake monsters and trains and Beck behind as he made himself smile at her.

"Did you make that?" he asked, voice full of surprise.

"Yes!"

"All by yourself?"

Morgan giggled. "Yes!"

"That's crazy! It's perfect." He gave her another squeeze and she threw her arms around his neck, practically strangling him, and he made himself laugh instead of scream.

It seemed like somehow, Mr. Stark knew that something was wrong. Then again, Mr. Stark could always read him.

"Hey, Morguna. How about we let Peter settle in, huh?" he asked.

He held out his arms and took Morgan from Peter. Holding out his prosthetic arm, he ushered Peter through the door he opened, revealing a bedroom that should have made Peter so happy, that he should have loved. But he found himself forcing the enthusiasm in his voice.

"Wow, Mr. Stark, you didn't have to do all this."

"I know, kiddo. I wanted to." Mr. Stark patted his shoulder. "There are clothes in the closet if you need anything, and the dresser. You already had breakfast?"

"Um, yeah, I ate." And he kind of had...a piece of toast on his way out the door, but he wasn't hungry. He hadn't been hungry in days.

"Alright. You want to get situated in here?"

"Sure, thanks, Mr. Stark." That, at least, had been heartfelt. He really did appreciate Mr. Stark. Truly appreciated him letting Peter stay over. Appreciated how kind he was and how he seemed to genuinely want to spend time with him, but Peter had no idea what to do with that. Everything was different now. Mr. Stark. May. Happy. His apartment and his room and all of his things in boxes that he still hadn't unpacked.

Mr. Stark shut the door behind him and Morgan, and Peter dropped his backpack beside the bed. He'd packed some clothes, but he'd never considered the fact that Mr. Stark would have clothes for him at the lake-house. Moving over to the closet, he opened the door with shaking hands and stared at the shirts hanging there. They were brand new, little white tags hanging from the sleeves and collars...same with the jeans on the other side. He closed the door with a final sounding click and rested his shaking hand on it for a moment.

Mr. Stark had a bedroom for him, complete with dark blue walls and a Star Wars poster on the wall with what looked like a signature from Mark Hamill, but he couldn't bring himself to walk any closer to check. There was a mini-fridge by the desk and... this wasn't a guest room. This was _his room_. A room designed for him at Mr. Stark's lake-house, but why? Not that he didn't appreciate it but…

Peter shook his head and moved to the window, nudging his backpack aside with his foot. He hadn't brought his suit. He'd barely been able to touch it after the battle with Thanos, and just when it had felt like he'd been ready to be Spiderman again, everything with Beck happened. Now he couldn't bring himself to look at it, much less touch it. It lay in a box in the back of his closet, crammed behind all the other boxes.

He wasn't sure if he could it anymore. And then what? What if he never put the suit on again? What use would Mr. Stark have for him then?

Peter stared out at the view of the lake, thinking it was probably the nicest view he'd ever had. There were trees, and through the leaves he could glimpse a gray sky that promised rain later. Yawning, he walked back over to the bed and sat down, then, unable to resist the urge to lay down, head resting on the pile of pillows. It was so comfortable…

The soft click of a doorknob woke him and his eyes flew open. For a moment, he was confused. Where was he? But it all came back as soon as Mr. Stark poked his head in.

"Pete?"

"Huh?" He asked, turning towards the door and blinking blearily at the man who gave him a rueful smile.

"Sorry, kid. I knocked but you didn't answer. You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm… yeah." He nodded, rubbing his eyes and swinging his feet over the side of the bed as Mr. Stark stepped fully into the room.

"Pepper's making lunch. I thought I'd give you a tour of the place before it starts pouring. Also, I told Morgan that it's against the law to take a canoe on the lake in the rain so just, uh… go with me on that, would you?"

Peter was surprised by the chuckle that escaped his mouth then, lips turning up at the corners. "Last I heard they throw you in jail for that."

Mr. Stark laughed and patted his shoulder. When had he gotten so close? Peter blinked a few times, wondering how that had happened, how he wouldn't have noticed. He shook it off and stood, following the man out into the hallway. Mr. Stark gestured to a partially open bedroom door , letting Peter know it was his and Pepper's, then he pointed to the bathroom Peter and Moran would be sharing while he visited.

"And here's the living room."

Mr. Stark paused in the middle of the room, arm out so Peter could take it in. The living room was cozy with two plush sofas, a fireplace, a big TV, and a coffee table with books on gardening sitting on top. It was all very domestic. Not exactly what he'd expect from tech-expert Tony Stark. Still, it was nice. Then he followed the man into the kitchen where Pepper stood at a kitchen counter in jeans and a t-shirt, feet bare as she chopped her way through a pile of vegetables.

"Peter," she greeted with a smile. Pepper put the knife down and came around the counter to hug him. Peter hugged her back, trying not to remember her in armor, catching him before he fell back into a hoard of aliens ready to rip him apart.

"Hi, Pepper."

"I'm making a salad for lunch with sandwiches. Is that okay?"

"Oh, yeah, but you don't have to, uh, I mean, I'll eat anything. Thanks."

She gave him a soft smile, eyes filled with something like sorrow, then she squeezed his shoulder. "Have you met Gerald yet?"

"Um…" Peter shook his head. "Do you guys have another kid?"

Mr. Stark snorted but Pepper only grinned. "Sort of. Tony, why don't you introduce them?"

Peter was about to ask more questions, but Mr. Stark just put an arm around him, leading him to the front door. Outside, the air smelled like rain and the sky had only gotten darker. He guessed he wouldn't be able to take Morgan out on the canoe anytime soon.

Mr. Stark led him out away from the house and toward what looked like a barn. Peter followed him, through the door, and his eyes widened as they caught on an animal. The older man stepped back, gesturing for Peter to approach the fuzzy creature standing in an open did, hands shoved in his pockets to hide the shaking. The animal let a long breath out of its nose, snorting softly as it regarded him.

Peter glanced back at Mr. Stark. "Um, its… uh, a llama?" he asked, then jumped a little when the animal moved its fuzzy nose closer to him, sniffing his hair.

"Alpaca," Mr. Stark corrected gently with a chuckle. "Peter, meet Gerald. Gerald, this is Pete." The animal grunted, pushing his nose against Peter's hand which was still hidden in his pocket. "Sorry. He thinks you have treats. Gerald, give him some space."

Peter smiled, pulling his hands out from his pockets and burying one in his soft wool.

"It's okay." He stepped a little closer, touching the tuft of wool on top of Gerald's head. "I don't have any treats for you. But I can bring some next time." He offered.

Gerald met Peter's eyes with his own huge, brown ones as if he'd understood him, and Peter felt himself smile, some of the tension melting from his shoulders. Running his hand through the alpaca's wool, he turned to Mr. Stark.

"Why do you have an alpaca?"

Mr. Stark chuckled to himself, expression turning rueful. "I was taking Morgan to the farmer's market and this guy was for sale. She fell in love."

Peter lifted an eyebrow. "Why were you going to a farmer's market?"

He laughed out loud at that. "Because Pepper demands fresh produce and we didn't have any tomatoes."

It felt almost normal, almost like the old days, almost like before. Before the snap, before the battle, before Beck. Before he'd lost his home and his apartment and before he'd been dead for five years.

After showing Peter around the rest of the property around the barn and up to the edge of the lake, Gerald tagging along, they headed inside to lunch. Peter picked at his food and then he sat down on the sofa with Morgan and there were movies. He played a board game with her and… and he couldn't remember any of it. It was like he was existing and breathing and smiling and laughing with Morgan, but Peter wasn't really there.

Finally, it was getting dark outside and thunder boomed and Mr. Stark's voice broke through the fog.

"Alright, Mo. It's time for Peter and me to get some work done downstairs, and you and Mommy are going to play for a while. Okay?"

For a moment, it seemed like Morgan was going to argue. Peter kind of wanted to argue himself. If Mr. Stark got him alone, he'd know. He'd know that something was wrong and that Peter was weak and broken and shattered. He'd know that Peter didn't really belong here, not anymore. But there was no real way to argue, to say he didn't want to go down to the lab where he'd always loved to work. So he was silent as Morgan hugged him, giving her a quick pat on the back before following Mr. Stark downstairs to his lab.

The lab hadn't been included in the earlier tour. Now, he stared at the room and saw a little of the Tony Stark he'd known before. "I saw the suit you made, the one using your webs as a base. Pretty cool stuff, kiddo." Mr. Stark told him with what looked like a proud grin, and Peter tried for a smile that didn't make him look like a robot.

"Thanks. Yeah it, um, worked really well." His voice was off...too high pitched, and he cleared his throat, fighting to sound calm. He was calm. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing to be afraid of. It had all been handled. Beck was in prison and Thanos was gone.

"I was wondering if you wanted to work on the design together, maybe combine our tech, see what we can make?"

No. He didn't want anything to do with tech or suits or aliens or war or…

"Peter? You look kind of pale, buddy." Mr. Stark stepped forward, and suddenly the back of his hand was pressed to Peter's forehead.

He jumped, then forced himself to stay still and breathe. It was just Mr. Stark. Everything was okay. He was safe. It was raining outside, the boom of thunder making him jump again, and Mr. Stark looked so concerned.

"Sorry, sorry." Peter tried to excuse himself, tried to stand upright and wave the man off. "Just, uh, tired. I didn't really sleep last night with the storms and, uh… yeah."

Mr. Stark still looked so concerned, so worried, but he gave a short nod. "Yeah? Alright. Why don't we sit down? Huh?" he suggested, an arm draping over Peter's shoulders. Mr. Stark was doing that a lot, putting an arm around Peter or patting his shoulder. Maybe it was because he had a real kid now.

Just that phrase, real kid, made his heart give a stab of pain Peter couldn't understand. Or didn't want to understand. But he'd always known that he wasn't Mr. Stark's kid. Sure, Peter was lucky that the man wanted anything to do with him at all and that he got to spend as much time as he did. But now the man had a family and Peter couldn't expect him to stop everything just to spend time with him, even if it kind of seemed like he had. _Well_ , Peter corrected himself as he wiped a hand over his face and sat as requested, _he hadn't stopped everything_. Tony had invited Peter in. Let Peter join his new, perfect family in his family home and had given him a bedroom and it felt like… like Mr. Stark was inviting him to be a part of his family.

Only that was crazy. Just because he gave Peter a bedroom in his home and just because Morgan called him her big brother, it didn't mean Mr. Stark wanted him to be part of his family. It didn't make Peter anything more than what he'd been before: a kid Mr. Stark was nice enough to take under his wing.

"Pete? Here." Mr. Stark pressed something into his hand and Peter realized it was a little bottle of orange juice. "Try this."

He opened it, muttering his thanks, then draining it in a few swallows.

"You want some more?"

"No, um… no, thanks. I'm fine. Just, uh, I didn't bring my suit so we can, uh… we can work on something else. If you want." His voice was edged with a desperation he was trying and failing to hide, and Mr. Stark watched him for a moment before nodding.

"Of course. How about nanotech? We never got to do much with that." Mr. Stark's eyes were sad for a moment. Filled with guilt and grief and it hit Peter, as it had before he'd gone to Europe, how much Mr. Stark seemed to have missed him. Of course, Peter thought, the man had thought he'd been dead. And, well, he had been. It was weird to think about. But the way Mr. Stark had looked at him, and still looked at him sometimes, like he was a miracle. Peter didn't know how to react, how to take it in. He'd just been Spiderman, a kid that Mr. Stark had seemed pretty fond of, who had taken him under his wing, but Peter hadn't been family.

Now, it seemed, Mr. Stark almost wanted him to be.

But if he knew, a part of Peter's brain whispered as he stood and followed Mr. Stark over to his workstation, if he knew how shattered he was, how useless, then he'd change his mind.

It was the thunder that woke him that night. No, not quite thunder. Well, there _was_ thunder, and rain pelting the roof. The rain was what had put him to sleep after hours in the lab where things had almost felt normal and dinner with Mr. Stark's family. He had agreed to read Morgan her bedtime story, the two of them curled up her bed as he turned the pages. Mr. Stark had stood in the doorway for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. Or maybe it wasn't unreadable. Maybe Peter just didn't know if he wanted to believe it, if he could let himself hope for the kind of love in Mr. Stark's eyes. After Morgan's bedtime story, Peter had joined Mr. Stark and Pepper in their living room, the three of them watching a movie and then Peter had told them that he was tired and had headed off to bed.

It had taken him what had felt like hours to fall asleep, staring at the ceiling with eyes that had filled with tears. This wasn't his home. This wasn't his family. That was the refrain that had played in his mind over and over. He didn't get to keep any of this. Mr. Stark had a real kid and a real family and Peter was a nobody kid from Queens who couldn't even be a superhero anymore. He'd died and come back to a world that had no place for him. Those had been his last thoughts before something had woken him, and he sat up a little, glancing first at the window, then at the door right as lightning flashed and illuminated the bedroom.

The figure in the doorway made his heart stop for a split second before he realized that the figure was much too small to be Beck.

"Morgan?"

"I'm scared," she whispered, approaching his bed and clutching her blanket. "It's really loud and it woke me up." As she came closer, he saw the tears on her cheeks and reached out his arms without thinking.

"Come on," he urged. "You can stay with me."

The girl practically threw herself into his arms, sniffing and obviously trying to stop crying. Peter shifted on his bed, laying her on the other pillow, then pulled the blankets up to her chin with hands that had started shaking the moment the battle with Beck had ended and hadn't stopped.

But more important than his thoughts of Beck and Thanos and the world that no longer had a place for him was the little girl in the bed beside him. Peter brushed her hair back, then began to tuck her in, making her a blanket burrito just like Ben had for him when he'd been unable to sleep.

"I can't move," she protested in a whisper once he was done.

"You don't have to. You're sleeping," he whispered back, smiling when she giggled again. "Do you remember Thor?" Peter ran his hand through her long hair and tucking it behind her ear. She nodded, eyes already drifting shut again. "Well, did you know that he can make thunder?"

"Really?" she murmured.

"Really. It's not scary, I promise. It might even mean he's nearby, keeping us safe."

The words tasted like dust and ash in his mouth, but they made her smile so he said them. Thunder meant Thor, he told himself again. Not Beck. Not his illusions. Thunder meant Thor and Thor was safe.

He laid his head back down, tensing once more at the sound of thunder booming, but beside him, Morgan was sound asleep. He didn't dare close his eyes, though. He'd shredded his bedding a few nights ago in the middle of a nightmare. Peter had bit down on a pillow in his sleep to keep himself from screaming and had woken up with torn blankets and a ruined pillow. He couldn't risk falling asleep and having a nightmare, not with Morgan right there.

Every time he closed his eyes, he felt it. His senses fired off warning after warning. Something was wrong, something bad was happening. Beck wasn't in jail he was here he was going to get Peter, he was going to make him see it all again. Or maybe this wasn't real, maybe none of it was real. Maybe he was still with Beck, maybe Beck had won and…

Peter climbed out of bed as quietly as he could as his heart raced. Without thinking, he left the bedroom, closing the door almost all the way, then went straight for the front door. Out. He had to get out. He was suffocating and Beck still had him and he was going to hurt Morgan!

The water on his face and the mud squishing under his bare feet didn't wake him up. It could all be an illusion. It had all felt so real, watching MJ fall and watching Ned crumble and watching May disappear and standing at Mr. Stark's gravestone... It had all been real! Then Nick Fury standing in front of him, turning into Beck, and the train!

Peter was running. He didn't know where, but he had to get away. He had to get away from Beck who might still be out there. Away from Thanos who would snap his fingers again. Away from Morgan who he would so easily hurt so easily kill without meaning to. Away from Mr. Stark who thought he was strong and brave and a hero when he was just a nobody kid from Queens who had been shattered and broken…

The barn smelled like hay, mostly, and an animal. Alpaca, he realized as the world seemed to come back into focus. Gerald. Mr. Stark's alpaca. The animal lay curled up in his stall, lifting his head as Peter entered the barn. He stared at Gerald for a long moment, feeling his hand shake and his stomach clench and every time he closed his eyes he could see it all. Beck and Thanos and Mr. Stark's tombstone and… Peter didn't know how much longer he could hide this from Mr. Stark.

Peter moved forward on numb legs, dropping to his knees at Gerald's side. The animal watched him as he buried his face into its side, the first sob leading to the next to the next to the next until he couldn't stop. Until he was soaking Gerald's wooly flank with his tears, fingers burying themselves in the animal's side, but Gerald didn't seem to mind. He just laid there, letting Peter cry into his wool until words finally spilled out.

"I can't… something's wrong. Please, please, I can't—" he cried, the words cut off by a ragged sob as his whole body shook.

"I can't take it. Please, please make it stop…"he begged. "I can't do this anymore, I can't!"

The footsteps shouldn't have surprised him. Honestly, was there anything Tony Stark didn't know? Still, he buried himself into Gerald's side, as if that would stop Mr. Stark from seeing him. Peter should have known that the man would find him. He should have run farther, should've kept running. He should've kept running and running until he could never be found.

Mr. Stark's knees popped softly as he knelt down beside Peter and Gerald.

"Hey, buddy," he murmured.

Peter wanted to ask how he'd found him, how he'd even known that Peter was awake and had left the house. Instead, he kept his face hidden against Gerald and waited, part of him praying that the man would leave. Another part of him wanted Mr. Stark to pull him into his arms like he did Morgan and promise him that it would be okay.

The man was silent for a long time, so long that Peter thought he could have dozed off if his heart hadn't been racing, if he hadn't been suffocating himself with an alpaca. Finally, though, a hand landed on his back, hesitant at first, then rubbing firm circles when Peter went absolutely still, practically holding his breath in an effort to keep the tears back. There was still a chance Mr. Stark didn't know how screwed up he was… how useless how stupid how weak…

Gerald let out a rumbling sigh, turning his neck and tucking his head into his side, and taking advantage of the vacated space, Mr. Stark moved closer, reaching out with his other hand and squeezing Peter's shoulder.

"Come here, bud," he urged, the metal hand somehow not cold on his shoulder through his pajama top. "Pete? It's okay. Come here."

His voice was so gentle, so kind, that Peter didn't have the heart to ignore him any longer. He turned and practically threw himself into Mr. Stark's arms, telling himself that he wasn't going to lose it just as his tears betrayed him and the sobs came back. Mr Stark settled against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him and maneuvering Peter until he was practically on his lap.

"Shh… you're okay. I've got you, kid. Promise."

And for what felt like the hundredth time that week, Peter cried, feeling stupid and helpless and certain that as soon as the man holding him figured out what was really going on, he'd leave. Or worse, he'd ask Peter to leave.

It took ages for him to force the tears to a stop, to control the sobbing and get his breathing under control. Mr. Stark never seemed impatient, though. His heart beat normally in his chest and it was the sound, that steady thumping, whooshing noise, that allowed Peter to breathe normally again. Sure he was about to be interrogated, Peter closed his eyes and kept his face hidden in the man's shoulder.

Mr. Stark kept his metal arm around Peter, placing the flesh and blood hand on the back of his hair and pressing him a little closer.

"I missed you… I missed you so much, Peter," he whispered, as if afraid of waking Gerald. "I thought, when Happy told me what was happening in Europe, what Fury did… god, Peter." His voice broke a little, and Peter thought for a moment that he might actually cry. Instead, the man took a deep, steadying breath and held him closer. "I love you, kid. I hope you know that. I know I was a shit mentor before and I kept you at arm's length for some idiotic reason and— and I know that I never said it because I was fucking terrified to. But I love you so much."

The tears were back, this time silent and… not quite happy, but something like relief. Warmth filled Peter's chest. Mr. Stark loved him. He loved him. Did that mean… all this… could he really believe it?

"I'm so sorry I never told you. I'm sorry it took me so long to bring you back. I'm sorry I gave up. I'm sorry that I couldn't help you while you were in Europe or stop Fury or… Pete, I'm so sorry."

The arms around him tightened even more and Peter returned the hug, desperate now. He couldn't let this go. He couldn't live without it now that he had it, and his brain still whispered that if Mr. Stark knew what he was thinking and what was wrong with him, he'd take it all back.

But before Peter could even sit with that thought for long, Mr. Stark went on. "I know that this is hard for you. And I know that you've been trying to push it down and not deal with it. I know that you're scared and probably traumatized from all this shit. Hell, I am, and I didn't even have to deal with Beck. But I'm right here. Whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here and I love you so much, kiddo. You... you're my boy, Pete. And I can't believe it took you dying to make me realize how much I loved you, and how important you were to me but it did, and I'm so _sorry_ , kid. But I want to be here for you now, however you want me to be."

Peter couldn't stop himself from tightening his arms around Mr. Stark's neck, trying to get closer. Close enough that Mr. Stark couldn't take it back when he found out that Peter had been shattered and had no idea how to put himself back together. But he wanted to talk about it all of a sudden, so desperately wanted to get it off his chest. So he closed his eyes and opened his mouth and hoped for the best.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered, voice breaking, but he kept going anyway, ignoring the wavering and the tears and just needing to get the words out. "I'm scared all the time and I can't sleep and I don't feel like I'm real… I don't— I don't know what's happening. I can't do it, I can't do it anymore and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I'm supposed to be a superhero but I can't…"

Mr. Stark pulled away just a little, running a thumb under Peter's eyes and wiping fruitlessly at the tears that fell.

"I don't want to disappoint you. I tried to stop Beck, but I made a mistake and he won and he made me see things and sometimes I don't know what's real anymore." He admitted in a voice that broke again. "I can't do it. I can't be Spiderman, I can't…"

He waited for the disgust and the yelling and the admonishment. Something. Anything. But Mr. Stark just looked at him like he loved him and like he was so worried.

"Okay. That's okay, buddy. If you need to take a break, or if you never want to pick up the suit again… that's okay. Either way, I'm still right here."

It felt like his strings had been cut. Peter went boneless against the man's chest, too exhausted and probably dehydrated to cry anymore, but Mr. Stark caught him easily, running his fingers through Peter's hair.

"You're my kid, Pete. I love you no matter what. And this thing you're dealing with, I'm going to help you get through it, okay? I promise. I've got some experience with it myself. Hell, just ask Rhodey what a mess I was a few years ago. But I've got you now, Pete. It's going to be alright."

Thunder boomed outside, louder than before, and Mr. Stark tightened his arms almost protectively when Peter flinched.

"Morgan was scared of the thunder," Peter told Mr. Stark as his eyes grew heavier and heavier. He was safe, he realized. For the first time in days and weeks, his senses went quiet and he took a deep, relieved breath. "I was afraid I'd have a nightmare and hurt her."

"She really loves you, you know? Won't shut up about how cool her new big brother is." Mr. Stark told him with a gentle chuckle. He pressed a little on Peter's shoulder until he was laying down, Peter's head pillowed on Mr. Stark's lap, knees curled up to his chest. "Apparently Spiderman is cooler than Ironman."

"Course he is,"Peter told him with a smile, the first real one in what felt like so long. The man above him snorted but kept stroking his hair. Then he remembered the other thing, the thing that had been somehow pushed to the back of his mind behind all the fear and the hurt and the trauma. "I kissed MJ in Europe. Not like I planned to, but, uh, I think she's my girlfriend now." His eyes were closed now, but he'd been so excited when it had finally happened.

"Really? That's great, Pete. I wanna meet this MJ girl you're always talking about. She sounds like an amazing girl."

"She is… she's so great, Mr. Stark."

The man's fingers massaged circles into his temples and he felt the world start to fade away.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Hm?"

"I love you… 'm so glad you're okay."

"I love you too, Pete. More than I could tell you. You wanna try to go back to bed?"

"I'm good here."

Mr. Stark laughed softly, patting his shoulder. "Alright buddy. Get some rest."


End file.
